


I Hate My Weaknesses

by redbranch



Category: Bandom, Frank Iero and the Patience, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Cock Rings, F/M, Femdom, Orgasm Denial, Pegging, Rimming, Smut, So much smut, current era frank, it's still kinda romantic as hell though, post-crash frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbranch/pseuds/redbranch
Summary: Tour is over and Frank is having trouble dealing with the downtime. Jamia knows how to help.





	I Hate My Weaknesses

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Frank ripped the headphones off his ears and threw them to the ground, slamming the space bar on his laptop to stop the recording as he leaned his elbows against the desk, pressing hard into the wood and curling his fingers in his hair until he felt the stinging in his scalp. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to track this damn song. Each time something went wrong. Something new. Which was the worst, because it wasn’t like he could just drill through it, do a chord change a hundred times over until the memory of it was burned inside his muscles.The parts he thought were solid in one take would become problematic in the next five, and that meant that the real problem was him, and it was something more than just clumsy fingers. 

It’s not like it mattered, anyway. The song kind of sucked. He felt it in his gut. Something about it wasn’t right, and sure, Frank had had plenty of songs like that: problem songs. But he had always been able to find a solution if he worked on it long enough. Not this one. He’d toyed around with the different sections for days and still hadn’t been able to land something that felt right before he had to say “fuck it” and track it anyway because he needed to feel productive and this was the best way he knew how. 

It was a cop out. He should’ve kept working on it, or put it aside. He should’ve gone the long way instead of trying to get something done now. He knew that, but lately it felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin if he didn’t do something. Time off didn’t look good on him. His year-long streak of touring had come to an end. It was the right decision. They’d been out on the record for a long time. They were all tired. They were all getting run down. Frank had been excited to spend time at home with his wife and kids, watch football, get the mail, play with his dogs, piss in a bathroom that didn’t reek of smoke and booze with walls that weren’t covered in layers of graffiti and questionable, multi-colored substances. God, that had sounded like heaven. 

But nothing ever goes to plan for Frank. One of his dogs had passed a week after he got back to New Jersey, and the kids left not long after for a summer camp in Virginia that Frank had forgotten they’d signed up for. Those were two heartaches he hadn’t been prepared to weather. Everything felt off kilter, and to top it all off the shoulder injury from his bus crash had been acting up again. Every time he twisted or raised his arm, pain shot through his shoulder and back like a thousand red hot needles. 

The doctor said that even though nothing seem to have changed physically, it wasn’t unusual for pain to flare up again. Injuries from car accidents, even non-life threatening ones, are serious and traumatic and need more time to fully heal. He’d been on tour, playing guitar and sweating his ass off and not getting enough sleep. It would probably improve with more rest and physical therapy and maybe some steroids. But casually she had said, “And sometimes these things can be psychosomatic.” And those words latched onto Frank’s brain like so many leeches. He did the shoulder exercises she recommended, used his right arm instead of his left as much as possible, but the word spun around in his mind every time he ached: _psychosomatic, psychosomatic, psychosomatic_. He wouldn’t put it past his brain to be that much of a dick. Of course he was the cause of his own pain. Of course. He was just that good at being so fucking miserable. 

Frank groaned and tightened his fingers in his hair until his nerves were sending out frantic, painful warning signals. He hated feeling this way. He was home. He wanted to be happy, and he hated that he wasn’t. 

“Frank?”

Jamia’s voice suddenly broke into his session of self-loathing only a few feet away from him, and Frank yelped and nearly jumped a foot in the air. He hadn’t even heard her come in. “What?” he snapped, instantly regretting his tone the second the word left his lips as he turned to look at his wife.

She just cocked an eyebrow while he felt his face practically glow red from embarrassment.

“I brought you tea,” she said simply, setting the cup down on his desk. The scent of ginseng and honey hit him, and it smelled like mistakes. 

“Thanks,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. It’s just this song, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick.” He held the teacup in his hands but didn’t sip it, just feeling its warmth through the ceramic and twisting it subtly back and forth and frowning into the dark liquid. 

Jamia let out a long sigh, and then Frank felt her hands on his shoulders, followed shortly by her chin. “You’ve been down here for hours,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s time to take a break.”

Frank shrugged and took a sip of tea to avoid answering. She was right. Of course she was. But Frank didn’t feel like he could move. He didn’t feel like he could be productive either, but he didn’t think he could do anything else that wouldn’t make him feel restless and antsy. He felt stuck, and he knew it was dumb to feel that way, because he objectively wasn’t. But right now all he could focus on was how tight and uncomfortable his own skin was, how wound up he felt inside. 

Jamia sighed again and spun his chair around to face her, climbing into his lap to straddle him a moment later. He put his hands on her hips to steady her, but he could barely meet her eyes. Even her warm, comfortable weight on him just felt like guilt. _She’s too good for you._

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked, pushing his hair out of his face. She stroked his cheek and Frank leaned into it. He couldn’t help it. He gravitated towards her like a flower to the sun. 

“I can’t,” he said, voice thick. His thumb found a bare patch of skin just above her jeans and traced anxious circles on her hip. “I want to. I’m sorry. I just… can’t get anything in order. I just need to work through it. I need to get the song right, and I’ll come up, I promise.” 

Jamia’s other hand slid up the side of his face, gently tilting him to look at her. Her expression was unreadable, but Frank could tell she was searching his eyes, looking for something there that he couldn’t name and didn’t know if she would find. “Okay,” she said, and leaned forward to touch her lips to his. His hands gripped her hips tighter on instinct. A distant part of him wanted her to stay so badly, wanted to pull her up against him and kiss her until neither of them could breathe anymore, but that part of Frank was out of his reach at the moment, trapped behind a wall of anxiety and self-doubt. So he let her go when she pulled away, allowed her to slide off his lap and head back up the stairs without following her, like he knew he should.

And then he was alone again.

\---

It was embarrassingly late when Frank finally emerged, having to grope his way through the kitchen and the living room in the dark to get to the stairs. He passed by the kids’ rooms first and couldn’t help but glance inside, his heart aching at the sight of empty beds. Summer camp was dumb. Why had they ever agreed to that? They could make s’mores and tell ghost stories and shit in the backyard. Same thing. Frank was so good at ghost stories. 

He paused when he turned the corner and saw light from his bedroom streaming into the hallway. He had hoped maybe that Jamia had dozed off already and he could quietly slip in next to her, but that clearly was not the case. Guilt and shame and anxiety still clung to every part of him, and he couldn’t face her just yet. Not like this.

Like a coward, he zipped past the bedroom door, directly into the bathroom and wasted no time in stripping down and getting into the shower with the hottest water he could stand. Showers always made him feel better. It seemed productive, and the heat helped ease his stress-tense muscles and the dull, constant ache in his bad shoulder.

He stayed under the spray for longer than was perhaps strictly necessary, trying to let the bad feelings melt and swirl away down the drain. He lathered and rinsed every part of himself methodically, like he was scrubbing in for fucking surgery. He paid extra attention to the small spaces of blank skin between tattoos, where he imagined the worst parts of him lived: places that hadn’t yet been inoculated with ink and art carefully pressed into him with sacred, sterile needles. Frank felt like those parts needed cleansing most of all.

When the water began to edge from hot to lukewarm, Frank finally shut it off and stepped out, drying off before wrapping the towel around his waist. His vague, blotchy form in the fogged mirror looked almost ghost-like, and he became preoccupied with it for a moment, trying to make out the blurred, inky shadows of tattoos. He thought for a moment about rubbing away the steam just to assure himself of the existence of his own proper reflection, because he had seen too many horror movies and part of him wondered if one day he would look into a mirror and find a monster or a demon or someone else’s face looking back at him, but ultimately he decided to leave it. Because he was a damn adult and monsters don’t exist in real life. Not like that, anyway. 

Hitching the towel back up on his waist, he padded back to the bedroom quietly in case Jamia had indeed fallen asleep. But no, when he crossed the threshold, there she was, reading a book with her reading glasses on and knees pulled up to her chest. Her lips quirked up at the sight of Frank, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes raked down his body. He couldn’t help it; his dick stirred. She just had this way of _looking_ at him that should be fucking illegal. “Hi,” she said cheerily.

“Hey…” He was a little disarmed by her positivity. He shifted his weight on his feet awkwardly for a moment before he gave in to the urge to be near her again. He crossed the room in no time, kneeling on the bed next to her and pulling her in for a kiss. She let him, linking their hands together and leaning into the kiss as he gathered her close and knotted his fingers greedily in her dark hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole,” he murmured when he could finally stand to pull away. “I’m sorry for shutting you out. I just feel like shit and like everything is wrong and like nothing turns out the way I expect or want. I don’t know. It’s just one of those times when it’s all piling up and it’s all dark and I don’t know what to do about it.” It was a sick relief to put it all out there. He had almost forgotten how easy it was to spill his guts to Jamia, how he felt compelled to do that and how it felt safe, like when they were like this with only inches between them, nothing he said could ever get out, and nothing bad could find its way in. 

Her slender fingers ran across his cheekbone, down the side of his face, dragged across his parted mouth. He resisted the urge to flick his tongue out and lick one, just letting her rub gently at his bottom lip. “It’s okay,” she said. “And it’s okay to feel like garbage, but the whole point of being married is that we talk about shit like this and get to work through it together. I can’t help you if you lock yourself in the basement.” 

“I know,” he said. Her fingers trailed from his lips to his chin and across his jaw, and his eyes slipped shut to concentrate on the sensation of her warm hand against his face. “I love you.” The words came out automatically, like a reflex. Even just her presence was like a balm to him.

Jamia caught him by surprise, pressing her soft lips to his while his eyes were still closed, coaxing him to slot her lips with hers in a slow, languid kiss. Her fingers slid into his damp hair. She tugged. He hissed. Frank felt her smile against his mouth. “I love you, too,” she murmured, her grip still tight in his hair. “That’s why I can help, baby. I know what you need.” She pulled his head back and slightly to the side, placing soft kisses against his now exposed neck that were a sharp contrast to her demanding grip. “You just need to trust me,” she said, her breath hot on Frank’s scorpion tattoo. He swallowed hard and wondered if she could feel his pulse kick underneath his skin. “Do you trust me?” she asked, her other hand traveling down to loosen the knot in his towel while she lavished kisses against his throat. 

What kind of question was that? “Yeah,” he gasped out. Her grip was still tight in his hair, straining the muscles in his neck and forcing his gaze towards the ceiling so he could only track her movements by what she allowed him to feel. And fuck, he was so into it. He liked to think he and Jamia had a pretty equal relationship, in every aspect. But she had this way of turning it on that he never got used to, like someone flipped a switch in her, and it got him every time--instantly turning him into putty in her hands. “Always, J. Fuck, always,” he said, his breathing hitching as her hand skated up his thigh, fingertips dragging through the damp curls of his pubic hair.

Finally, she came up to his level, capturing him in a deep kiss again, her tongue delving into his mouth with an assured confidence that this was hers to taste. And she wasn’t wrong. She pulled away with one more soft peck to his slack lips and let her hold in his hair loosen, brushing a few stray strands out of his eyes as she smiled down at him. He felt like he was in a trance, watching her, waiting, laying himself completely at the mercy of his wife. And yeah, he was getting hard. Yeah, he was noticing her breasts, obvious through the overstretched neck of her t-shirt, the faint freckles on her pinkening cheeks, the way her hair was brushing the bare skin of his collar bones. But it also felt like more than that. Sexual but also with the very distinct sensation of his heart sitting out bloody and raw and delicate, beating right in front of her, so easy to destroy if she chose to, but both of them trusting implicitly the she wouldn’t. And so when she said, “Shut your eyes,” it was easy for Frank to obey without a second thought, even when he felt her pull away and her weight disappeared from the bed entirely. 

His ears strained to track her path across the room, trying to follow the soft padding of her feet on the hardwood. There were rustles of fabric, an opening drawer, something heavy sounding, something plastic-y, other sounds he couldn’t begin to place. But Frank waited, eyes closed like she asked. The air was cool on his bare skin, the remaining dampness beginning to evaporate. The room had gone quiet, and all Frank could hear was the sound of his breathing and faintly, if he concentrated, Jamia’s. His fingers twitched, restless. The feeling of exposure was beginning to get to him, but the unspoken implication to stay put pinned him to the bed like an anchor. The latent ache in his shoulder became more apparent, and he fought the urge to roll it and try to work out the pain, as had become his habit. He wanted to move, to touch her, to have her touch him. Something. _Anything._

But Jamia was still here, he could feel that, always so acutely aware of her presence. This was the part where he had to trust her, and so he did. He tuned in to her steady breathing, tried to match it with his own. The moment seemed to stretch on longer than he could account for, but eventually his fingers went still again. One by one his limbs relaxed, which, when he felt it, was so clearly a stark difference from the way his body usually carried itself with so much underlying tension he never took the time to notice. He had maybe started to drift off a little, allowing his mind to meander, when suddenly he felt warm fingertips on his ankle and the sensation startled him back into the present. 

“You’ve been thinking too much,” Jamia said softly, tracing around the curve of his ankle, the new webs he’d just had inked there months ago. “Worrying too much. You haven’t been focused on the now. I’m here and you’re somewhere else, and I miss you.” Her fingers slid up his calf and he felt the bed dip with her weight in between his legs. Her hand reached his thigh, running back and forth through the sparse, coarse hair there, and his breathing hitched and he just wanted to look at her. So. Bad. 

The bed dipped again, and Frank could tell she was leaning over him, watching him even though he couldn’t do the same. “Right now I just need you to listen to me for a little while. And talk to me when you need to, okay?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, but in the silence of the room and the small space between them, she didn’t need to be loud or forceful to make herself heard. She never did. She never had to yell or demand, because she knew Frank would obey. Her lips brushed against his, a kiss so quick and gentle Frank wasn’t prepared for it. “Okay, love?” she asked again. Frank nodded and then he felt a finger on his lips, parting them. “Use your words, honey,” she reminded him. 

“Yes,” he croaked out eagerly, still lying still and still dying to feel her. His voice ended up sounding too loud in the quiet, but he couldn’t help it. “Yes, okay.” 

“Good.” He was rewarded with her hands on his face and her mouth on his again, kissing him deeply, the way she liked, slowly and methodically exploring every inch of his mouth with her tongue. She pulled away too soon, and Frank had to resist the urge to follow her retreating mouth. 

Her hand trailed down his body as she pulled away, moving across his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his hips. A full body tremble he couldn’t suppress rippled through his spine and he felt goosebumps rising in her wake. “I love you like this, Frank. Waiting for me, being good for me. You’re so open for me and such a good listener. It’s nice.” One finger suddenly traced a line up the underside of his cock, and Frank gasped, fighting hard at the last second to keep his hips against the mattress. “You look so good like this, baby,” she said, and he groaned at the feeling of her lips against his chest. “So pretty when you’re mine.” 

She kissed down his torso, the contact painfully erotic and slow at the same time. Her lips seemed burning hot against his cool skin and the dichotomy instantly increased the speed of Frank’s shaky breaths. He dug his hands into the sheets, clutching them in his fists to keep still as she grazed his nipples with her teeth and sucked hickeys into his chest and kissed across the sensitive, ticklish spots on his ribs. 

A pathetic, needy broken moan escaped him when he felt her hand lazily massaging his cock, her grip too light to give Frank what he craved. She chuckled from where she was above his groin, tracing the outline of one of his birds with her tongue. “Soon, baby. You’re doing so good.” She pressed a quick kiss to the head of his dick, giving his balls an affectionate pat before pulling away. Fuck. They’d barely done anything and already he was beginning to sweat with the effort of staying still, his breathing as labored as it was back when he tried to tag along on one of Ray’s insane morning runs while he was still smoking a pack a day. 

Frank felt her weight disappear from the bed entirely and couldn’t help the whine he let out. “J…” he begged. He wanted to stay put for her, but his body was aching for her touch and his patience wasn’t boundless. 

She responded by grabbing his hand, tugging him upright. “Up,” she coaxed. “Edge of the bed.” He followed her blindly, eyes still closed but so grateful to be able to move again. She led him to where she wanted, sitting upright at the edge of the bed. She hummed contentedly above him and ran her fingers through his freshly washed hair, letting the strands fall before tracing along his jaw, parting his lips, pushing her fingers into his mouth for him to suckle at, pulling them out and coaxing him to drop his jaw with her wet fingertips on his chin. “Keep it open,” she said gently, and he did, heart thudding in anticipation. She tilted his head up slightly and petted the side of his face in a tender gesture. “You’re so good at this, Frankie,” she praised. “So willing. You’d take anything I gave you, wouldn’t you?” 

He nodded and she clicked her tongue, fingers sliding into his mouth again. “Words, Frankie,” she reminded him kindly. 

He waited a beat for her to take her fingers out, but when it was clear she wasn’t going to, he spoke around them. “Yeth. A’ything,” he said, the words coming out garbled around her fingers. She pulled them out and he felt them leave a trail of spit hanging off his chin, which was somehow the dirtiest thing yet. His dick twitched against his thigh. Maybe she could make him come just from sheer anticipation. 

“Good.” She sounded pleased. “Keep that mouth open for me, baby.” He did as she asked while he heard her shuffle around a bit, taking clothes off maybe, he assumed. More saliva filled his mouth as it hung open, and he began to worry about it dripping everywhere, a situation that wasn’t helped by his imagining what was coming next: her pussy against his face. He could already taste her in his mind, and it only made him salivate more. By the time her hand slid back into his hair, it had a reached a critical point, saliva pooling dangerously close to the corners of his mouth, and open mouth swallowing could only get him so far. 

Jamia didn’t seem to notice or care about his predicament. Instead she stroked along his jaw again. “Love your mouth,” she cooed. “Use it for me, honey.” And then something new nudged against his bottom lip. Not her hands, not her pussy, not her flesh at all. She guided it just barely into his mouth, and he gasped when he tasted the silicone. Dildos weren’t foreign to them, certainly, but they hadn’t used one in a while, maybe not even since he’d gotten back from tour. 

God, had he been that much of a miserable fuck? 

Jamia pushed it in further, letting Frank feel the weight on his tongue. “Miss this, baby?” 

This time Frank didn’t miss a beat when she pulled it out, the wetness smearing on his chin. “Yes,” he gasped. “Fuck, yes, Jamia…” He trailed off into a moan when she brought it back to his lips and pushed past them into his mouth again. 

“Show me,” she said. “Suck.” 

Frank groaned as his lips closed around the toy and he sank down onto it, taking as much of it into his mouth as he could before Jamia tugged on his hair, pulling him back up to the head of it before pushing him down again. The dildo filled his mouth in a way that drove him crazy, the size of it causing his jaw to ache as it was forced open wide, his throat swallowing hard every time Jamia thrust it in in an effort not to gag. The sting of his hair being pulled and the rhythm Jamia was setting didn’t allow him room to think, all of his concentration focused on finding the space to breathe in the hypnotic push-pull of the dildo in his mouth. 

Jamia groaned above him and the dildo pushed in further than before, making Frank gag and cough before she pulled it back, giving him an extra second to recover before getting back into the rhythm. “So fucking good. So good at this. Fuck, just fucking made for this,” she said breathlessly, hand moving to cup the back of his head, coaxing him down further on each thrust. Frank faltered, gagging, but she didn’t let up, and he eventually got back under control, swallowing against the extra intrusion. 

She sighed and petted at his hollowed out cheek. “Fuck. Look at me, Frankie,” she said. For the first time in who knows how long, Frank’s eyes fluttered open, blinking as he adjusted to the light. And the first thing he noticed, something that was now painfully obvious, was that the dildo was more than he had assumed it was. Jamia was sporting a full strap on, the black harness standing out starkly against her pale hips. Frank groaned around the silicone in his mouth, his hips bucking up against nothing involuntarily. This. This was new. They’d played around with toys before. She’d even fucked him with them before, but never like this. And he never knew that was something he wanted until now. 

Finally, he managed to drag his eyes up to meet his wife’s and found she was smiling down at him, kind but with a hint of something wicked. “You like it? I thought you might.” Her fingers moved to touch Frank’s stretched wide mouth, working one of them in alongside the dildo. She was biting her lip, chest beginning to flush, which Frank knew was one of the first signs she was getting seriously worked up. Her eyes flickered down to his mouth, and she moaned, tightening her hold on his hair. “Christ, you look so good sucking my cock,” she said. And those words went straight to his dick. He was so hard he could feel his damn pulse throbbing deep in his groin. His hips rocked again, looking for friction that wasn’t there but not daring to touch himself before she’d explicitly given permission. She noticed and grinned at him, though he was sure his expression looked pathetic and just as desperate as he felt. “Soon, love,” she assured him. 

And with that she pulled back out of his mouth, the dildo and Frank’s lips both shiny and slick with spit. His chest heaved for breath. He felt messy and wrecked already, and he was so hard it hurt. He felt lightheaded as he took in the sight of Jamia: her naked, pale, soft form interrupted by the harness and the cock sticking out from between her legs which looked downright obscene, especially as she stroked it in front of him. Her hips rocked slightly with the movement and she was grinning down at Frank like a Cheshire cat. “Is this what you wanna do, Frankie?” she asked. “Jerk off?”

He had to unstick his throat to answer. His tongue in his mouth felt thick and dumb. “Yeah,” he rasped. 

She took a step toward him into his space and leaned down to put her hands high on his thighs, inches away from where he needed them. His heart jumped and he pressed toward her on instinct. The proximity without any satisfaction made him want to fucking die. “I’m not sure you really want it. You don’t sound too convincing,” she said. She cocked a hip as she spoke, and Frank’s eyes were suddenly laser focused on the dick swinging between her legs. Fuck. 

“Please,” he begged, pretty convinced he could cut glass right now if he tried. “Please, J. I need it so bad. Fuck, something--ah!” He gasped as she leaned forward further and her thumb brushed against the edge of his balls. She smiled and tilted her head up to place a soft kiss on his lips, and he whimpered involuntarily, all too aware of how close her hands were to touching his cock.

“Something?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair. And then suddenly she had her hand wrapped around his dick and it was like a shock went through his entire body. His hips bucked up hard into her fist; a moan tore out of his throat. She started pumping him and he was already so close to the edge just from that, and fuck this, he was a grown ass man. He wasn’t going to lose it in thirty seconds from a fucking hand job. He refused.

He tried to think of anything unsexy--broken knees, changing tires, Liverpool chants--but it none of it helped. “J-J, I-I’m gonna… Please…”

“Don’t you wanna cum, Frankie?”

“Not… I… Not like this,” he said, his hands balling into fists in the sheets to try and keep control as she kept jacking him off. 

Her fingers tightened in his hair and she tilted his head so he had to look her in the eye. “I thought you wanted this _so bad_ ,” she said, mimicking his begging. 

He whined, feeling strung out. All of his muscles were tight with the effort of not coming and Jamia had him fucking cornered, filling all of his senses. “W-want… want you. P-please,” he stammered. It was getting harder to hold back, a familiar tightness in his balls beginning to creep in. All his body wanted to do was fucking come already, but Frank knew that strap-on was meant to fuck him, and Jesus Christ he wanted that. 

And then just as suddenly as she had started, she stopped, her grip tightening at the base of his cock, cutting off his building orgasm. He cried out at the shock of it, gripping onto her shoulders and panting hard as his cock and balls began to feel uncomfortably tight. His body rebelled against the sensation, his hips still moving to try and find something that wasn’t there, but she held firm until he had stilled, petting his hair and trailing kisses along the side of his face. “Good boy,” she said affectionately. When he seemed mostly under control, she took her hand off of him and for a moment Frank felt like crying. He was still so hard, and now with a vague, tense ache in the pit of his belly. He buried his face in Jamia’s neck, holding onto her and breathing hard, trying to take comfort in her familiar warmth.

She stroked his back, tracing up and down his spine, then reaching down further to the curve of his ass, dipping her head to bite at his neck. Frank hissed at the sensation but tilted back to let her have as much as she wanted. She could take anything from him; he would give it away willingly. Her little nips stung his skin, deeper bites across his muscles making him shudder. Her hands were on his chest, pushing him back, and he complied, scooting up the bed to make room for her before laying back when she pushed down on his shoulders. She knelt above him, so beautiful he could barely stand to look at her. The contrast between her hands spread wide across his hips was always startling: his olive skin and tattoos against the smooth milky softness of her. By all accounts, they shouldn’t go together. But here they were. 

“One more thing,” she said, leaning over him to reach something on the bed he hadn’t noticed before. 

Frank’s eyes went wide when he saw it. “No, J, please. I’ll be so good. I-”

“I know, baby, but I need you to last for me,” she said as she took his cock in hand from where it rested heavy and hard against this stomach and began to stretch the cock ring over his head. He made a noise of protest but she kept rolling it down until it was at the bottom and Frank had his own hands fisted in his hair, groaning in frustration as the ring constricted around the base of his dick. 

“Shh…” she said, trying to soothe him. She kissed his forehead and pulled his hands back down to his sides. “Hands and knees,” she said, giving his thigh a pat. Jamia sat up on her knees and looked at him expectantly. Frank sighed and hauled himself up, turning himself over and gasping at the sensation of movement in his taut, swollen dick. The ring made everything more sensitive, and even the natural swinging from turning onto his side was intense. By the time he was in the position she wanted, he was already breathing unevenly, gripping the sheets tight in his fingers and trying to keep his hips as still as possible. 

Jamia made a contented humming sound as she ran her hands from his ass to the top of his spine and back down, pausing to press down gently on his lower back in a way Frank knew meant the she wanted him to arch it further for her. “This is a nice view,” she murmured, cupping his ass gently. “All your ink,” she said, kissing the base of his spine. “It’s so pretty.” She spread his cheeks, and his breathing hitched as he felt her lips warm against the crack of his ass. All of him muscles tensed as she made her way further down, until she was pressing a kiss directly against his entrance and he flinched away instinctively. He didn’t go far, one of Jamia’s hands on his thigh holding him firmly against her. 

“Fuck,” he spat as he felt the warm wetness of her tongue against him. The sensation sent little sparks of pleasure to his trapped dick as she kissed him, licked around him, pressed against the tense ring of muscle. Then she finally breached him, the tip of her tongue slipping inside, and Frank’s arms gave out, dropping him to his elbows. His entire body broke out in a cold sweat. He was breathing hard, small whines escaping him as she tongued at him and sucked at his rim, and his knuckles has turned white from holding onto the sheets so hard. Frank sucked in a breath when he felt her finger slip in beside her tongue, not anticipating the stretch. She nudged his prostate and he moaned, pressing back against her desperately, his cock pulsing helplessly against the ring. “Jamia…” he said breathlessly. Another moan escaped him when she hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations going straight to his dick. “Please. I-I need--ah!” Frank cried out when she pulled away from him, leaving him panting and feeling exposed, still ass up and spread open. 

He yelped when he felt her again, two fingertips cool and covered in lube pressing into him suddenly, a hand on the small of his back keeping him in place and reminding him that she was there. “I know,” she said in response to Frank’s high-pitched, needy whimpering. “You’re doing so well, baby. Almost ready for me.” A third finger slid in next to the first two, and Frank’s head dropped between his shoulders, mouth open in a silent O as he felt the burn of the stretch. Part of him was halfheartedly trying to count backwards in his head to figure how long it had been since they’d done something like this, but it was useless. Jamia was moving her fingers in and out in a slow rhythm and his mind went fuzzy around the edges.

“You okay, Frankie?” she asked. Her fingers stilled, the hand of his back stroking lightly around his crossed guns. She must have taken notice of his silence. 

He licked his lips, tried to remember how to form words again. “Y-yeah,” he said. “I-I’m ready. Please. So ready.” His tone took on a desperate edge despite himself and he pressed back against her fingers, moaning when he felt them reach deeper inside him. She chuckled and pumped them a few more times, spreading her fingers gently as if just to make sure, before pulling out again. 

He felt her weight shift as she settled behind him and heard the quiet snick of a bottle cap, and suddenly his heart was racing. He closed his eyes, tried to relax, but then she nudged his knees further apart and they snapped open again. All hope of finding a calm center was thrown out the window. One of her hands gripped his hip, and then there was the feeling of cool, lube-slick silicone against his ass. “You want this?” she asked, moving her hips so the dildo nudged against his entrance.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Her other hand reached down to palm at his balls and he jumped again, the sensation jarringly intense with the ring in place. “What was that?” she asked again, her voice insistent. 

“Yes!” he said again, louder this time. “Yes, please. I want it. I want it.” 

Her fingers moved upward, trailing from his balls to his shaft, and he let out a strangled cry, loving and hating being touched there. He’d have to find a way to get her back for this later. “Be more specific, love.” 

It was difficult to get his brain focused on something other than her hand on his dick and the dildo on his ass long enough to speak. “Want… want your cock,” he finally said. He felt his cheeks grow hot. It took everything in him to beg so openly, but he knew she got off on hearing it, and honestly, so did he. His dick twitched despite his embarrassment, anticipating. “Want you to fuck me. Please, J. I need it. Need you to fuck me.” 

Her hand left his dick and he sighed in relief. “Good boy,” she said. She smoothed her hands over his ass, lining herself up before gripping his hips. “Relax, baby,” she murmured, and then she was pushing forward, carefully guiding herself into him. Frank gasped as he felt himself stretch, felt the head of her cock enter his ass. He noticed immediately that this dildo was bigger than other ones they usually used and that only made his craving stronger. His back arched and he moaned out wantonly as she slowly kept pressing in, filling him inch by inch.

By the time her hips were flush with his, he was breathing hard like he’d run a race, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. “Fuck,” she said, breathless. “Oh my god. Frank, you take it so well.” She pulled him close and rolled her hips against him, making the cock inside him shift and force a whimper from Frank’s throat. She bent to kiss his spine, running a hand up his side, sliding her fingers into his hair, but not pulling, just holding. “Tell me how it feels.” Jamia’s voice was low in his ear, her breath on his skin causing goosebumps to raise. She punctuated her statement with another roll of her hips and forced another noise out of Frank. 

His head was so fuzzy. All of his brain power was trying to compute the two divergent sensations of a cock in his ass and his wife’s familiar form attached to it, soft legs in between his knees where they wouldn’t normally be, small hands digging into his hips instead of the usual broadness of a man’s. She bit his shoulder, and the sharp pain helped bring him back to the surface. He had to focus hard on her words to answer. “Full,” he managed. “So... so full and so fucking big. I… you... M-more, please. I need more, more…”

He gasped as she began to pull back. “Okay, okay," she said, pulling back until she was barely still inside him. “I’ve got you.” With that she pushed forward quicker than before, burying the full length of her in him in one hard thrust. Frank cried out and scrabbled for more purchase on the sheets, arms shaking. The two sensations of a cock in his ass and the maddening tightness in his dick were overwhelming. But she set a steady, hard pace, and by the next thrust, he was down. His arms gave out and he pressed his face into the sheets, muffling his moans in the fabric as his wife fucked him into the mattress. He vaguely registered her voice, still talking, saying filthy things to him, about him, but he couldn’t manage to tune in, too lost in the feeling of being utterly fucking debauched.

And then she’s pressing in deep, making Frank’s toes curl, a hand coming under his shoulder, pulling him up. “Headboard,” she said, guiding him to it, and he did as she asked and gripped the headboard with both hands because thinking for himself was a lost cause at this point. When he was in position, she picked up her pace again, fucking him hard. 

Oh yeah, it was better this way, Frank thought. He can move with her more, push back against her shamelessly as moans tumble from his lips before he can think about them. Jamia had an arm wrapped around his torso, hauling his body into her on each thrust, and suddenly her fingers were in his hair, yanking his head back, pulling his neck taut and forcing his entire back to arch. “You like this?” she asked.

She pulled harder at his hair and he whined, holding onto the headboard desperately. “Yes, fuck!” he gasped as she landed a particularly forceful thrust. 

She was breathing hard with the effort of fucking him, her short nails digging into his scalp slightly. “You’re such a good fuck. So good for me.” She let go of him and his head dropped between his shoulders again before she slowed and pulled out. Frank whimpered at the sensation of being left empty, but she just pulled him upright, off the headboard. “On your back. I want to see your pretty face,” she said.

He dropped to the bed gratefully, his muscles shot. He rolled over onto his back and was rewarded with the sight of Jamia kneeling over him. Flushed pink from her cheeks to her chest with wide-blown pupils and mussed hair, she looked just as fucked out as Frank felt. She was gorgeous.

She leaned over to kiss him greedily, all teeth and tongue as she spread his legs, hitching them up onto her hips. “Yeah,” she breathed. He felt her line herself up again against his hole. “You look even better like this.” She sat back up to let Frank watch as she pushed in, inches of her length disappearing inside of him, and if the ring hadn’t been on him he would have come just from that. 

She started slower this time, really letting him feel it, and in this position, she hit his prostate dead on. He squirmed against her, looking for purchase on the headboard, on the sheets, until he got his hand wrapped around her arm. “Jamia,” he pleaded, and then she pressed against his prostate again and his tongue failed him, his words turning into a desperate groan. 

But she knew. “Yeah,” she said, and then she was giving it to him like he wanted, leaning into it and fucking him harder. He bucked up against her snapping hips, practically sobbing whenever her belly brushed against his swollen dick. “So good,” she gasped. “So good, Frankie.” 

Her hand touched his cock and he cried out, but then he realized she was pulling off his cock ring and he scrambled to help. She batted his hands away quickly. “No touching,” she said, fixing him with a look that let him know she was serious. The ring came off and Frank wanted to cry at the feeling of no longer being constricted. He had been so hard for so long he was already hurtling towards the edge. 

“S-so close,” he moaned, gripping her harder and pushing his hips up to meet her thrusts. Heat was coiling tight in his belly, building faster than he’d ever felt before. She just smiled and leaned forward to an angle that sent a jolt of pleasure up his spine. Her hand closed around his throat, pressing up under his chin and cutting off his air. 

“Cum for me, baby.” That was the final straw. His eyes rolled back in his head and he saw stars as he came harder than he ever had in his entire goddamn life, his mouth opening for air that wasn’t there as he trembled under Jamia while she kept fucking him through it. He felt like he was being consumed by it, his mind going blank except for the sparks of Jamia hitting his prostate that went right to his pulsing dick. 

Finally she let go of his throat, and he took in a greedy gasp of air. Her thrusts stopped. Frank’s body went limp. His mind slowly worked to get back online. He was floating, aware of nothing but bliss.

Maybe he could have stayed that way forever, but he slowly became more conscious of Jamia’s hand on his chest, her lips kissing the side of his face, murmuring sweet praises in his ear, and how breathy and hitching her voice still was. 

His eyes flickered open and he turned to see Jamia against his side, eyes closed, mouth open, hand moving fast between her legs where she had pulled out and taken off the harness without Frank even noticing. “Shit,” he said, chest still heaving to get his breath back. “C’mere.” He didn’t have the strength to move his body, but he reached over to pull her towards him by the hips, and she got the message. Jamia scrambled to her knees and straddled his face, holding onto the headboard where Frank’s hands had been not long ago. 

She was close too, already teetering on the edge when Frank grabbed her ass and pulled her pussy to his mouth, latching onto her clit automatically and making her cry out. He sucked at her greedily, digging his fingers into her soft flesh, and it wasn’t long until Jamia’s hand was in his hair, gripping tight and holding him still while she rode his face and came hard against his mouth, crying out his name as her body went stiff. 

When she came back down from her high, she levered herself off of him, collapsing against his side again and turning his face towards her to kiss the taste of herself off his lips. He gathered her close and she wrapped her arms around him, careful to avoid the mess he’d made of himself on his stomach. They both laid there together for a while. The sound of them catching their breath was the only thing breaking the quiet. Frank started absentmindedly smoothing out Jamia’s wild hair. Her familiar warm shape tucked up against him filled his heart so much it felt like it was going to burst.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been silent before she whispered into his shoulder, “I love you.” 

Frank smiled to himself, turned to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, too,” he murmured. 

For the first time in a while, his shoulder didn’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write things that aren't Frerard. But someone's still gotta get fucked in the ass.
> 
> Let me know if you're into this! I have no idea what I'm doing in this realm.


End file.
